


The Beat

by kristsune



Series: Flowers and Tattoos [42]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Stick and Poke are really tired of dealing with racist homophobic assholes, Strong Language, Violence, but blood is mentioned, casual reminder that the clones are not white, not described in major detail, warning for the use of the c word i know a lot of people are sensitive to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:26:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/pseuds/kristsune
Summary: Poke just wants to spend the afternoon with Stick, some punk has other ideas.





	The Beat

**Author's Note:**

> This happened because I heard the [Dead Kennedys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KTsXHXMkJA) and the [English Beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VzakY8h5vI) (The Beat in the UK) songs back to back on the Sunday Rewind on the local radio station. This was supposed to be light hearted and got out of hand quickly. Stick likes to do that to me. 
> 
> This takes place sometime while they are in college, probably undergrad before they go to med school.

Poke walked into Pins and Needles record shop, to visit Stick, who was in the middle of his shift. It was the only job he had been able to easily hold down without quitting or being fired. He was allowed to be himself, and had free reign to not take any shit from the customers. The Dead Kennedys were playing overhead,  _ Holiday in Cambodia _ , one of Stick’s favorites. He loved that entire album, listened to it often. 

Stick smiled and turned down the music as he saw Poke walk in, “Hey babe, how’s it goin’?”

Poke saw the one other punk in the shop frown at the Kennedys being turned down. He was tall and lanky, mohawk plastered up at least a foot high, and a rusty red color. He had an old studded leather jacket, ripped jeans and green combat boots. There might have been the top of an iron cross tattoo sticking out the top of his shirt. He had a generally mean look about him, and it wasn’t just the clothes he was wearing. Poke was smarter, and more aware than that. He himself was wearing a Clash shirt, studded belt, brown boots and his currently teal mohawk was down and flopped over to one side. 

He ignored the nasty look the punk gave him to answer Stick, “Hey, my afternoon class was cancelled so I figured I’d hang out ‘til the end of your shift.” 

Stick gave him a quick kiss, “Awesome, I was just gonna order some food, you want some?” He asked as he stopped the music to pick up the phone.

Poke heard the other punk make a disgruntled noise at the added interruption, “Nah, I’ll just pick at whatever your getting.”

After Stick made the call, he took off the Dead Kennedys record, knowing Poke had heard it a million times. He grabbed a UK pressing of The Beat, and put on  _ Mirror in the Bathroom _ , a song Poke himself was currently obsessed with. 

Poke flinched as the punk slammed his hand down on the display, “Okay, that’s  _ it _ . Why’d you go and turn off the good music and put on this shit?” 

“Hey, twatwaffle.  _ Fuck you. _ I can play whatever the fuck I want.” Stick shot right back, subtly stepping in front of Poke. 

“Fuckin’ colored queers ruining the whole scene, that’s what you are. This place used to be good, til people like  _ you  _ started working here.” the punk sneered at them. 

Stick got real tense and quiet, “Listen up, cunt. I am only going to tell you this once. You are going to get the fuck out of this shop and never come back. If I even hear a whisper of you or any of your racist, homophobic friends around here? I  _ won’t  _ be playing nice.”

The punk snarled and came at them, Poke sidestepped behind the counter, knowing he would just get in the way, as Stick deflected his wild grab, grasped the back of his neck and smacked his face into the solid hardwood record display. 

The punk gave a wordless shout, and held onto his bleeding face as he got up and looked back at Stick with wide eyes.

“I said,  _ get out _ .” The growl in Stick’s voice was deep and threatening. Poke was glad he never had to be on the receiving end of that. The punk flipped him off with his other hand and pushed his way out the door.

Stick’s shoulders sagged as soon as the door closed. Poke walked over and placed his hand between Stick’s shoulder blades. Stick turned and wrapped his arms around Poke. “I’m sorry you had to be here for that.”

Poke kissed Stick’s forehead as he hugged him back, “It’s okay. You know Hevy wouldn’t want someone like that in here anyway. Now we know.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you should  _ never _ have to hear that kind of garbage.”

Poke lifted Stick’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes, “Neither should you.”

Stick kissed him sweetly, before pressing their foreheads together, They stood there together, taking comfort in each other until the Chinese food Stick had ordered arrived. 

It was a somber afternoon until the owner, Hevy, and his boyfriend Hardcase, showed up and lifted the mood. They praised Stick for his reaction (Hardcase possibly a bit too enthusiastically) and reinforced Poke’s sentiment; that neither of them wanted business from any racist homophobic assholes. 

Hevy gave both Stick and Poke permission to use their artistic skills to create more queer art to put up around the shop. Hevy wanted to be sure to advertise that since he took over the shop, it was truly welcoming to the queer community.

It did wonders for Stick and Poke’s spirits, it was honestly impossible to leave the shop without a smile when Hevy and Hardcase were around. So after Stick’s shift was over, him and Poke headed back to their apartment with lighter hearts, knowing they weren’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hevy and Hardcase aren't that much older, if at all, just inherited the shop from the previous owner.
> 
> Shout out to the hubs for coming up with the name for the record shop. It's perfect and i never would have ever thought of anything better.


End file.
